


Overflow

by ohmyflavors (hannibae)



Series: Firsts [2]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom!Rhett, Dirty Talk, Dom!Link, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sub!Rhett, Watersports, top!Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6842806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibae/pseuds/ohmyflavors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in the car is making it worse, being cramped up, the bumpy roads underneath him, the lurch of the car every time Link slows down or takes a turn. </p><p>He knows they aren’t very far away, and it’s like knowing that makes him have to go even more. The fine line of being able to hold it and officially wetting himself is getting thinner and thinner, and he knows Link can tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overflow

**Author's Note:**

> this is a series of fics following rhett and link through their sexual relationship. all of it's going to be out of order, and everything can be read as a stand alone fic.

They’ve been driving for hours.

The hotel isn’t very far away by this point, but Rhett feels like time is lurching forward. He feels the wheels of the car moving underneath him, but it’s not fast enough, not right now.

Link is driving, and Rhett’s gripping the door handle so hard his knuckles are white.

“You can hold it,” Link tells him, for what has to be the fifteenth time since they started this whole thing.

And gosh, it started so innocently. Link had to pee, that was it, and Rhett poked fun at him, because they’d already stopped twice, and Rhett hadn’t gone at all. He hadn’t needed to, until that third time.

He’d made a joke, said something about how Link must have a tiny, little bladder, or something stupid. He can’t even remember right now, not with how everything is throbbing and aching. All he remembers is the look on Link’s face turning from soft and sweet to that one he gives Rhett whenever he’s on his knees in front of him, mouth wrapped around Link’s cock while Link punishes him for whatever stupid thing he did beforehand. That look is familiar, and Rhett knows he fucked up when Link sends it his way.

Link had told him, “Hold it, then. If you think you’re so tough, you can hold it until we get to the hotel. Maybe I’ll let you go when we get there.”

He complied, didn’t argue or protest, just bowed his head and prepared himself for what was to come. It’s easy so slip into his role, easy to fall into that headspace, and Link knows it.

It hurts. It aches all the way through him, and he’s squirming in his seat without really meaning to.

“ _Link_ ,” he whimpers, and does his best to stretch his legs out in front of him, trying to relieve as much pressure as he can.

Link side-eyes him, a smirk on his face, and Rhett bites at his bottom lip, focuses on breathing. “You did this to yourself,” Link tells him, shrugging his shoulder.

Being in the car is making it worse, being cramped up, the bumpy roads underneath him, the lurch of the car every time Link slows down or takes a turn.

He knows they aren’t very far away, and it’s like knowing that makes him have to go even more. The fine line of being able to hold it and officially wetting himself is getting thinner and thinner, and he knows Link can tell.

They’ve never played this particular game before, and his safeword is tucked in his back pocket at all times whenever they try things without ever really speaking about them.

By the time they’re pulling into the hotel parking lot, the word is on the tip of his tongue. He swallows it down at the soft sound of Link’s, “Come on, bo.” He unbuckles himself quickly, grabs his suitcase out of the backseat, and dances around a little bit while Link takes his time gathering all of his things.

Standing is worse, so much worse, and everything shifts, and he’s so close to wetting himself in broad daylight that he feels tears spring to his eyes in embarrassment.

“Link,” he says again, the only thing that’s come out of his mouth for a while now. He tries to sound stern, but it comes out shaky and uncertain.

All he gets is a look over Link’s shoulder, but he notices him moving a little quicker.

Checking in is a blur, and he’s too focused on not pissing himself in the middle of some posh lobby to pay any attention to the interaction. So when Link is putting a hand on the small of his back and leading him over to the elevator, he lets out a sound of relief.

“Third floor,” Link tells him, nods at him to push the button. “Pay attention. 347 is the room number, and I want you to find it for us. When we get to it, you are to unlock the door, and sit on the edge of the bed until I tell you otherwise, do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Rhett mumbles, uncertain. “What if I—“

“You’ll hold it, or you’ll be punished,” Link says, final and certain and not entertaining any sort of question.

Punishment would almost be better than this, but he doesn’t say as much. And he doesn’t safeword out, because he’s hard, has been this whole time,  and he’s thankful for the hoodie he’s wearing that goes to about mid-thigh for the discretion. This is the most intense thing he’s been through in regards to sex, the way everything feels so full, and how he feels out of control.

Link is controlling this, the way Rhett reacts to this, how long he waits, even so much as how long it took them to actually get to the hotel. And by the time Rhett finds their room, unlocks the door, and perches himself right on the edge of the bed, he’s so close to wetting himself that he grips Link’s bicep and shoots him a desperate look. A small sound escapes him, and Link just leans down to press his lips to Rhett’s forehead.

“You’re almost done. Hold it just a little longer for me, yeah?”

He doesn’t think he can, is the thing, not for very much longer. It _hurts_ , all the way through him, intense and bone-deep. The sound of the shower starting tears a sob from him, and for a moment, the terrifying thought that Link is going to make him sit here and wait for him to take a shower before he gets to go wracks through him.

He’s embarrassed, cheeks tinged red, and his mouth dry with it. But he’s so hard, cock thick and outlined in his jeans. And he’s ashamed that he’s so hard, even this embarrassed.

Link comes back out of the bathroom, nods at Rhett to stand and follow him, not waiting to see if he will, just trusting that Rhett knows the rules. He does, and he’s never been more excited to follow them in his life. This whole ordeal is some weird mix between punishment for being rude, and a reward for listening to what Link told him, and he’s not entirely sure how to feel about it.

All he knows is he has to pee, and he wants to please Link. He wants to make Link proud. He wants to do anything Link wants him to do.

And, if he’s completely honest with himself, he wants to wet himself in front of Link. He wants to lose that control completely, hand over his embarrassment to Link and give him permission to do what he pleases with it. The idea of letting go of so much of himself is pleasant. It’s a curling in his gut, a hot prickling sensation.

“Strip,” he’s told, and he rushes to. He tears at his jeans first, wanting out, wanting the ache to go away.

Moving is making it worse, the pressure on his bladder increasing every time he jerks to get more of his clothing off. He can hear high-pitched whines falling out of him involuntarily while he rushes to get out of his clothes.

“Don’t you dare wet yourself, Rhett,” Link says, and when Rhett looks up at him, the look on Link’s face is serious. “Not yet. Not until I tell you to.”

“I’m trying,” Rhett promises, desperation making his voice crack. “I’m trying so hard for you, but I have to go so bad.”

“I know you do,” Link tells him, and he gets a hand on Rhett’s side, holding him steady while he strips out of his boxer briefs. Except after a second, his comforting touch turns into a steady press, right over his gut, making it nearly impossible not to let go right there. He cries out, short and sharp, and Link shoots him a hot look. “Hold it for me, Rhett.”

“I can’t,” he whines, but he _does_ somehow, pulls his shirt over his head and does his absolute best. “Fuck. Please.”

Link just kind of shepherds him into the shower, gets him under the spray, and Rhett watches him undress. It’s a slow process, or at least it feels like one, but eventually he’s standing under the spray with Rhett, warm hands sliding down his body until he gets to Rhett’s hips.

His cock is still hard, pressed against his stomach, and Link reaches one hand down to wrap a loose fist around him. “Come on,” he mumbles, leaning in close to press his mouth to Rhett’s collarbone. “Let go, baby.”

With a sob, he does, and it’s slow and he almost comes just from the feeling of finally being able to. He’s crying, just a little bit, and Link presses in close, hand going around to Rhett’s ass instead, fingers digging in, bruising.

His stream is weak, but the fact that he can finally release the pressure on his bladder is so good. It feels so good, a shiver running through his whole body, and he’s so into it that he doesn’t even realize that Link is getting on his tiptoes for a kiss.

When their mouths press together, it’s like he checks back in, and he’s reaching out for Link, grabbing at his neck to angle him so he can get deeper. He nips at Link’s lips, moaning thickly when his hand wraps back around Rhett’s cock, angles it down so his stream is aimed somewhere around Link’s own crotch.

It should be so gross, it shouldn’t make him feel so good, like his whole body is a livewire. His face is hot with shame, flushed down to his chest, but Link kisses it away.

And when Rhett looks down, Link is hard, too. He’s so hard, pressed up against Rhett, slick and wet, and still holding onto Rhett’s cock. It feels okay now, the embarrassment fading away into another heat, right in the center of his chest.

It feels like he’s been going forever, just a trickle by this point, but still enough for it to be landing on Link in rivets. Warm, even though the spray of water is washing it away almost instantly, and it’s running down his own thighs, his stomach. He feels a squirming in his gut at the realization, and he lets out a guttural moan.

Gosh, this shouldn’t be as good as it is, this shouldn’t be making him so hot, but he can’t help it. The way that Link’s fingers are gentle and guiding him where he wants, holding him in place while he relieves himself after holding it for so long—all of it is so good.

He says as much, mumbles it into Link’s mouth, and holds him close while he rides out the last few weak streams, shuddering when Link drops onto his knees. He has just a moment to register what’s happening before Link’s hot, wet mouth is wrapping around him, sinking down and down, until his nose is touching Rhett’s stomach.

“Oh, gosh,” Rhett pants, tangling his fingers into Link’s hair. “Oh, fuck Link. Fuck.”

A couple of swallows, and Link is pulling off with a cough. “God, you’re huge,” he rasps, like he forgot.

Rhett laughs a little, helps him back onto his feet, and swoops down for another kiss. He doesn’t think about what he might taste, doesn’t entertain the idea when Link pushes his tongue into Rhett’s mouth with excitement.  

“Your turn,” Rhett mumbles, and he didn’t even know he wanted that. He hadn’t even thought about it until the words are coming out of his mouth, but now that they are, he can’t think about anything else. “Come on, Link, please.”

“You want me to—on you?”

Rhett curls forward, wraps his arms around Link’s waist and nuzzles his face into his neck. He lets out a loud grunt, rocking his hips forward while he nods, rubbing his soft beard over the more sensitive parts of Link’s neck. He does like Link did for him, wraps a loose fist around the base and aims for his thighs, resting his head on Link’s shoulder so he can watch.

Link is breathing hard, scrambling for the wall behind him to brace himself, and Rhett watches him fall apart, just a little bit. At the first stream, Rhett lets out a groan, loud and rumbling through him with a vice. It’s so much, and he ruts against Link, hips mashing into him to try and get some sort of friction.

“Gosh, Rhett,” Link moans, and he puts his hands back on him, on Rhett’s waist while he gets them both even messier.

He doesn’t last as long as Rhett did, and it’s over in just a few seconds. Link reaches behind himself to turn the shower off, and Rhett gasps at the cool air as soon as it hits him.

“Bed,” Link tells him, and Rhett is quick to comply.

They’re soaking wet, all of it water by this point, and Link meets him on the bed after a few seconds with a bottle of lube in his hand. He sprawls himself out, stretching his long limbs, feeling the tension in his shoulders fade. Link stands at the foot of the bed, and lets his eyes rove over the expanse of Rhett’s body.

It can’t be too much to look at, red cock leaving a trail of pre-come on his stomach, his hair all over the place. But Link licks his lips, eyes getting dark and narrow, and he eventually nods his head, says, “Turn over.”

With a hum, Rhett complies, gets on his knees, pressing his face into the bed. He’s barely situated before he feels Link’s fingers, two of them slick and warm, pressing into him. “Gosh, Link,” he gasps, but he’s pushing back for more.

He’s so worked up already, doesn’t need any more foreplay. The whole car ride was foreplay. The shower was foreplay. And with the pressure on his bladder gone, the bone-deep ache of needing to release gone, it’s not going to take much more for him to come. Link must be thinking the same thing, because two fingers become three much faster than they usually do, and Rhett bites his lips through the burn and stretch.

He can take it, likes it to hurt, and his whole body is arching back for more, harder, faster. A whine falls out of him when Link’s fingers slide out, and he’s hushed softly, Link’s clean hand tangling itself into Rhett’s hair while he lines himself up.

The blunt head of Link’s cock presses against him, pushes inside, and Rhett moans loudly. He wants this so bad, wants Link to fuck him hard and deep, make him come, and do it all over again.

“Oh fuck, Rhett,” Link moans, and his fingers tighten, pull at Rhett’s hair. He bottoms out with a groan, says, “You should see yourself taking me like this, baby. All of my cock deep inside you. Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Link,” he gasps, arching his back when he pulls out, fucks back into him slow and deep. He doesn’t know why he’s drawing this out, can’t take the slow burn of it all, and he whines, presses back for more when Link doesn’t give it to him.

“Greedy,” Link murmurs, and Rhett can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn’t give in, though, keeps the pace slow and deep, hand holding Rhett’s head in place. “So greedy. Maybe next time I’ll make you hold it while I fuck you.”

Rhett heats at that, burning all the way into the pit of his stomach. He can’t imagine that, can’t imagine having to wait through the stretch, the feeling of Link’s cock pressing into him, can’t imagine being able to. He knows he would have wet himself if Link would have made him wait this long, without a doubt. The punishment that Link threatened to give him wouldn’t have been enough to make him be able to hold it. So the idea of needing to hold it even longer than he did today makes him wince.

“No,” he groans. “No, please don’t make me do that, sir.”

“No? What if I made you wet yourself while I fucked you?” he asks instead. And that—gosh, that’s almost too much. It’s so much, thinking about Link’s cock inside him, the feeling of being so full inside, being held and fucked, and made to do _that_. And maybe they should talk about this when Rhett isn’t an inch away from coming his brains out.

“ _Please_. I’m so close,” he whines, tensing up while Link speeds up his thrusts, holds him down and fucks him hard. It’s not going to take much more, he can feel the twist in his gut, the sweat sliding down his temples. He’s aching for it, and with every pass over his prostate, his cock jerks against his skin.

When he finally comes, it’s from the sound of Link’s praise, words unclear in Rhett’s head, but the tone is there, and it’s enough to break him apart. He comes so hard, cock untouched, and he’s choking out a sob at the feeling of it. He’s never come like this, never this hard, and it starts in his toes, washes over him in waves that last forever.

“Rhett,” Link moans, leans down and bites at his shoulder while he comes down. He’s clenching down hard, whole body tense while the aftershocks thrum through him. Every thrust of Link’s hips sends a new cascade of pleasure down his spine, cock twitching wetly against him. “Fuck, baby.”

And when he sits back up, both hands fall to Rhett’s ass, spread him open, and Link lets out a guttural sound and pulls out. For a second, he’s confused, the empty feeling pulling a sound out of him, but Link presses back inside, pulls back out, and that’s when Rhett catches on.

He doesn’t say anything, face heating up while he’s used and spread open, malleable under Link’s hands. This is all about humiliating him, the twisting in his gut when it happens, the fact that he could get hard again if Link keeps this up. Link knows what it does, the embarrassment of things like this, how being made to hold it hurt just right, how peeing in front of Link – _on Link—_ made him feel.

He can breathe again, can feel his toes, and he hums deep in his chest when Link presses in one last time, groaning loudly, pressing his mouth to Rhett’s back. The slick feeling of Link coming inside him makes him pull a face, but it fades when he realizes everything they just did.

“Oh, jeez,” Link mumbles, chuckling a little while he pulls out.

Rhett rolls onto his back, stretches out again, and Link moves to that he can get between Rhett’s legs. When he gets where he wants, he plops himself down, crossing his arms on Rhett’s chest so he can support his head. Reaching down, he runs his fingers through Link’s hair and smiles down at him.

He knows there’s come on his stomach, can feel it drying, and there’s no doubt Link knows it’s there too, but neither one of them have the energy to get up and do anything about it. So he basks in the afterglow, closes his eyes and combs the knots out of Link’s hair while they come down.

It’s not until he feels teeth scraping at his chest that he opens his eyes again, looks down at Link, who’s smiling softly up at him.

“So,” Link asks, “watersports, huh?”

Rhett chuckles warmly, tugs on a fistful of hair teasingly. “Man, I don’t even want to know why that was so good.”

“Is that, uh,” he starts, and Rhett can tell he’s nervous, “I mean, would you want to do that again one day?”

In a single, fluid movement, Rhett rolls them over so he’s laying on top of Link, mostly so he can mouth at his chest, rub his beard over his ribs and revel in the tiny, breathy moans Link lets out. “Yeah, we can do that again one day,” he says eventually, sinking his teeth into Link’s collarbone.

“Gosh,” Link pants. He’s squirming under Rhett’s hands, and he can feel him getting hard again already.

“There’s no way I’m getting it up again so soon, baby,” he laughs, licking over a nipple. “But I do owe you a rim job, if you want to get through two firsts today.”

Link just squeaks out a sound, and Rhett takes that as a yes.

“By the way,” Rhett starts, “next time, you should definitely make me wet myself while you fuck me.”

Link smirks at him. “Thank you for your permission. Now, back to that rim job you were mentioning.”


End file.
